


Blood and Sin

by XatAdaar



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Cunnilingus, Drabble Collection, F/M, Hate Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, PWP, Power Bottoming, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XatAdaar/pseuds/XatAdaar
Summary: A collection of smutty/sensual drabbles featuring Vlad and assorted other League champions.  Pairings are in chapter titles, so use the chapter index if you're looking for something specific!





	1. Vlad/Jhin

**Author's Note:**

> These are all standalone drabbles from my Vlad RP account. Some of these ships make sense, some don't - if you're genuinely curious about the context behind some of them, I'm happy to provide it (where it exists)!

Blood welled between Vladimir’s fingers where they pressed against his shoulder, and he drew them away to gaze down at them with a gleeful sort of curiosity. His flesh was taking quite some time to knit itself together again, between the size of the hole that had been blown into him and the peculiar technology of the bullet that had done it, and he savored the burning ache while it lasted. 

The little artist had actually managed to _wound_ him. 

He was delighted beyond measure, and it was clear that he wasn’t the only one - Jhin’s rasping breath was coming faster, audible even from where Vladimir stood, and the blood mage was possessed by a sudden and singular desire to see whether his face expressed the ecstasy his racing heart seemed to imply.

A blink, and he was upon his would-be murderer, shoving him hard against the brick of the neighboring building. One hand fisted around the collar of Jhin’s perfectly-starched tunic, and the other reached for the bottom lip of that absurd mask. He wrenched it free, the audible sound of tearing fabric filling the air between them as he tossed the hideous thing aside. 

Sure enough, the grin that Jhin wore was just as manic as his own, and betrayed not even a hint of fear. Vladimir held his gaze for a long, tense moment, each of them reveling in this electric sensation of being truly _alive_. They were connected by the ambrosia of Vladimir’s pain, of the blood he’d shed, and it felt only natural to tighten his grip on the mortal’s collar and kiss him, hard.

That Jhin arched against him did not surprise him, nor did the desperate surge of his tongue into Vladimir’s mouth, chasing the copper-gold taste of immortal blood. Vladimir indulged him, sinking his teeth harshly into Jhin’s tongue and relishing the low groan that resulted. 

The mortal’s gloved hands were scrambling against him now, shaking slightly as they reached for his mutilated shoulder. Vladimir inhaled sharply through his nose as those slender fingers pressed reverently to the tender edges of the wound that still gaped. In turn, he shifted, the hand on Jhin’s collar slipping up to wind around his throat.

Vladimir broke the kiss at last, crimson pupils blown wide in sheer, unadulterated exhilaration. “You’re mine for this, boy,” he whispered, and delighted in the way that Jhin’s pulse stuttered beneath his palm. “You’ve given me a gift - I intend to give you one of my own.”

He was firmly resolved that tonight would not end until they were both breathless, bloody, and, in Jhin’s case, at least a little _broken_.


	2. Vlad/Vayne

Vayne loathed him beyond belief. Vladimir represented all that she stood against - he was immortal and amoral, and the magicks coursing through his veins were ancient and as black as they came. She wanted nothing more than to cleave his head from his shoulders, burn him to ash, and scatter his remains to the four winds, ridding Runeterra of his malicious influence for good.

But she was also only human, and in trying to deny that for so long, she’d left herself vulnerable; he’d seen right through her, and when he’d pushed her in just the right way, her defenses had crumbled, and so had she - directly into his arms.

That was not to say, of course, that she’d simply laid there, meek and lifeless as he took her - she was still Shauna Vayne, huntress of demons and the dark, and gentle was not in her vocabulary.

Vladimir was ruined, staining the sheets below them with drop after drop of his priceless immortal blood as he ravaged her. Vayne cried out for him, spitting his name like a curse one moment and moaning it like a plea the next as her fingernails carved valleys into his back, his shoulders, his chest - anywhere she could reach, she clawed. He could have easily bound her hands to preserve himself, but this pain was a small price to pay for the knowledge that she would be unable to pretend that she had not wanted this - wanted _him_. 

For once, Vladimir did not bother with words - taunting her was unnecessary, caught up as she was in passion and confusion, in hatred and pleasure, and it was satisfaction enough to hear her war with herself, stifling her moans and screaming aloud in turns. Vayne was warm and willing beneath him, and when he finally dared to kiss her, she did not deny him; if anything, she’d been eager, arcing her back and opening her mouth to invite him deeper, ever deeper.

He’d expected her of all people to know better - when you invite the darkness within you, it is you that is consumed. And oh, how he’d consume her…


	3. Vlad/Katarina

“I must say, you’re an even lovelier sight from below,” Vladimir panted, his grin wicked as Katarina’s hips slammed into his with a merciless passion.

The assassin scowled down at him, but he caught sight of a smirk of her own as she shifted, leaning down towards him. 

“And _you’re_ much more attractive when you don’t speak,” she growled, pressing her lips to his in a fierce kiss. He could feel her bristling as he chuckled against her, and he ran his hands eagerly up her sides, gripping her behind the arms to pull her against him, hard. 

Katarina broke the kiss to gasp into his mouth as he seized control from her, bucking up into her and sending her tumbling against him with the force of his movements. She let herself rest against him for a few moments as he gripped her hips to set their pace, allowing him to take the reins (and the hard work) and groaning as his teeth found her neck, biting down hard and tugging.

“You’re going to leave a mark,” Katarina complained, even as she writhed, fingers twisting in the sheets beside him.

“Don’t bother acting like you don’t want me to,” Vladimir returned, tongue laving along the bruise that was already beginning to form. His voice dropped into something low and smug as he nipped at the shell of her ear. “How else will you be able to keep yourself away from me, if you don’t have a few keepsakes to tide you over?”

A shiver shot through Katarina’s entire body, and after a moment, she sat upright with a huff, cheeks nearly as red as her hair. 

“… For once in your life, just _shut up_.” She snatched Vladimir’s hands from her waist, pinning them to the bed on either side of him and bracing herself against them as she wrested control from him once more. 

The blood mage tossed his head back and hissed in soft satisfaction as she rode him, breathless and furious and _beautiful_ in her passion. From the vindictive smirk on her face, it seemed that she believed she’d gotten the better of him, that she’d won. Far be it for him to dissuade her - he’d let her believe whatever she needed to, if it kept her in his bed and in the palm of his hand.


	4. Vlad/Talon

“For someone that hardly speaks, you’re remarkably talented with your mouth,” Vladimir observed, hand buried in Talon’s hair as the assassin’s head bobbed over his lap.

Talon glanced up at him, indignation clear in those sharp eyes even as a delicate dusting of pink spread across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose at Vlad’s praise. The blood mage treated him to an unrepentant smirk and raised one pale brow, as though daring Talon to contradict him.

Talon did pause, and for one glorious moment, Vlad found himself wondering if the boy would actually bother telling him off. Instead, Talon’s expression turned impudent, almost challenging, as he dove even deeper, earning a startled hiss of satisfaction from the hemomancer. 

Vladimir tossed his head back, eyes drifting shut as he forcibly smothered the urge to tighten his fingers in that lovely hair and take control. Talon was a finicky one, skittish of being touched and incredibly standoffish and paranoid. It had been an exhausting endeavor, tracing the threads of the boy’s embarrassingly obvious attraction to him to their source and pulling those knots of anxiety and distrust loose enough to convince him to come to Vlad’s bed, but he’d certainly been worth it so far.

Talon’s innocence and inexperience might have been off-putting, but for his naked passion for the act – no, for Vlad himself, and the pursuit of his pleasure, rather than Talon’s own. The assassin sought out Vladimir’s satisfaction with the same single-minded determination that he hunted down his targets, and it was _delightful_. 

That he reacted well to Vladimir’s effusive, filthy praise was another pleasant surprise.

“If this assassin business of yours doesn’t pan out,” Vladimir mused, his breath coming heavier than he’d expected. “You certainly have other marketable skills.”

Talon’s grip tightened to the point of pain on his hips, and Vladimir could only laugh. This time, the assassin did pull free from him, rising up on one knee with mortified anger blazing in his eyes, but Vladimir had been anticipating that.

He snatched the boy’s collar, tugging him close and nearly upsetting his balance. Talon was forced to brace both hands on either side of Vladimir’s hips to keep from toppling onto him, and the blood mage wasted no time before pressing his lips to Talon’s in a hungry, demanding kiss.

The furious tension in the assassin’s shoulders began to melt away, helpless in the face of such simple affection from him. After a few moments, Vladimir pulled back, carding his hand through Talon’s hair once more and drinking in the boy’s dazed, flushed face.

“As though I’d let anyone else have you,” Vladimir murmured against Talon’s lips. “You should know that I don’t enjoy sharing my toys.”


	5. Vlad/Sona

“You know, in all my years, I’ve never had a partner without a voice,” Vladimir informed her as he trailed the tips of one clawed gauntlet along her bare belly. Fortunate for her that he hadn’t bothered sharpening them to their typical razor sheen in months, or that tender skin of hers might have split open at his touch.

It was almost a pity - he rather wondered how she’d sound if she tried to scream.

Still, there was no sense fretting about what could have been. For now, he would have to content himself with the angry red scrapes he raised in his wake, criss-crossing her delicate flesh to mark the path he’d traced across her body. Faint pink lines arced along her shoulders, over the swell of her breasts, and between her thighs, and the fingertips of his bare hand traversed them with the same satisfaction an artist might afford his latest masterpiece.

Sona arced against him, soundless and shaking in his arms as his fingers slipped inside her, and the hemomancer’s lips turned up in a wicked grin. He could not see her face, but he didn’t need to - even without the noises he’d become accustomed to, he could still read his partner’s delight in the way she trembled and squirmed in his lap, her back pressed flush to his chest as she angled her hips against his hand. 

Vladimir pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss behind her ear before turning to nip harshly at the space where her shoulder met her neck, the grip of his gauntleted hand tightening on her hip. Blood began to well where the steel points dug into her flesh, and he could all but smell her fear as he reminded her exactly who her playmate for the evening was.

“Ah, ah– Behave, little maven,” he chided, voice soft as silk. Slowly, those claws made their way up her bare chest, settling lightly around her throat. His fingers below resumed their movement as he whispered a warning into her ear. “I may not be able to make you scream, but I can certainly find other methods to take your breath away.”


	6. Vlad/Vayne

Vladimir always enjoyed these play-dates of theirs; they came seldomly, but he loved the evenings when Vayne would approach him, breathtaking in her hatred and her passion, lay down her arms, and confess her desire. 

She’d long since learned that, contrary to her expectations, Vladimir would not lay a hand on her until she’d asked him to, making it harder for her to close her eyes and pretend that she bore none of the responsibility for this, her guiltiest of pleasures. It never came easily, but that was half the fun - prodding and pulling at the armor of her pride until the words finally came spilling out - 

_“I need this.”_

_“Fuck me.”_

_“Please.”_

Still, that was rarely the end of it. Even with her pride in tatters on the ground alongside the clothes she’d shed, Vayne was still a strong-willed woman, and a remarkably stubborn one at that. It was charming and certainly exciting, but only up to the point where it began to interfere with the act itself.

It was somewhere between the fifth and sixth time that she’d shoved him away that Vladimir’s patience ran out. When she lashed out at him again, he was ready, snatching her wrist in an iron grip and forcing it to her side.

“You are welcome to be as rough as you please, Vayne,” he warned, crimson eyes glimmering and betraying just a hint of the monster he truly was. “But if you want this, you ought to _act_ like it.”

She seethed at him in icy silence, and it was only when he began to pull away that her composure cracked, and she reached out for him.

“Wait! Please, don’t– I do want it. I want…” She swallowed hard, a lump that must have been the last vestiges of her pride swelling in her throat. “I want _you_ , Vladimir.”

Unsurprisingly, she knew exactly how to draw him back in. Vladimir had descended on her again in seconds, one hand pinning both wrists above her head and the other fisted around the neck of the unbuttoned blouse she wore, tightening it almost to the point of pain. He pulled her to him, devouring her lips in a searing kiss that she returned with unambiguous hunger.

“Mark me all you like, my dear, but make no mistake,” he breathed into her ear as he pulled away. “Everything I do to you tonight, you will have _begged_ for.”


	7. Vlad/Elise

It was a rather pleasant change, being seduced instead of doing the seducing for once. Vladimir did enjoy flaunting his charm and tugging others’ strings to bring them into his bed…

But in the end, no one was better at pulling strings than Elise.

“Leave it to a fellow immortal,” Vladimir groaned, fingers twisting idly in the sheets beneath him. “To know how to truly take me apart.”

Elise had been servicing him for what felt like hours, rendering him nearly boneless - whether that was from pleasure or from the toxin he was relatively certain she’d slipped him when they’d kissed, it was hard to say, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered either way. Even Elise didn’t have the power to kill him, and she knew better than to try - he belonged to LeBlanc, just as she did.

Elise chuckled, her breath ghosting along a fresh bite mark on his hip and wringing a full-body shiver from him as she did. 

“It begs the question of why you even bother with humans anymore,” she murmured, crawling up his torso and leaving stinging bites in her wake.

Vladimir managed a dazed grin, summoning up the strength to raise a hand to Elise’s cheek. “They have their uses,” he hummed, moments before she claimed his lips in a searing kiss. 

“Play with your prey too much, and you become them,” she warned as she pulled away, nipping at his jaw. “You’ve even begun to _taste_ mortal.”

“Making such a bold statement when you’ve yet to even try all of me,” Vladimir tutted, raising one sluggish brow. “How uncouth.”

Elise laughed again, licking her lips as she made her way lower.

“Of course,” she purred, pin-sharp fangs flashing in the candlelight. “It’s only fair that I taste _every single inch_.”


	8. Vlad/LeBlanc

LeBlanc settled onto Vladimir’s lap with all the effortless grace of sitting on a throne. Her slender legs straddled his hips as she looked down at him, her expression bringing to mind a spider coming upon prey ensnared in its web.

The scarlet of the hemomancer’s eyes was barely visible, his pupils blown wide as he fixed his gaze to hers, unable and unwilling to tear it away. His face was void of any emotion, but she’d known him long enough to recognize that as one of his few fear responses - and to understand that the way he’d already begun to stiffen beneath her had nothing to do with fear. She admired the way he’d kept his breathing steady, aside from a brief hitch when she’d first touched him, but as she raised a hand to his chest, painted nails pressing perhaps a touch harder than they needed to, it became clear that he still hadn’t mastered control over _all_ of himself just yet.

“How fascinating, that your heart can still race,” she murmured, lips inches from his.

Vladimir’s nostrils flared, and that silver tongue darted out to wet his lips, but he said nothing and remained utterly, unnaturally still. He knew better than to take the bait she was dangling before him - not without her express permission, at any rate. There was a pause, a few more frantic beats of his heart, and then she smiled - a genuine smile, the likes of which he only saw a few times a decade, and very rarely directed at him.

“Very good,” she purred, the fingers on his chest tracing their way up to trail along the sharp line of Vladimir’s jaw. There was a flash of something mischievous in LeBlanc’s eyes when she spoke next. “Kiss me.”

The command came softly, and it had scarcely made its way out of her lips before he was breathing it back into them. One arm slipped around her waist, and he raised the hand of the other to cautiously, reverently cup one side of her face. His thumb stroked along her cheekbone as his lips moved against hers, urgent and greedy but still restrained, respectful - she was his Matron, and he would take nothing more than what she’d offered.

Vladimir knew how to behave, when sufficiently motivated. 

LeBlanc hummed in satisfaction before suddenly grinding down against him, earning a strangled groan. A sharp intake of breath chased after it as she guided him inside without warning, sparing little care for the way his hand twitched at her waist. She broke the kiss at last, drawing herself up and away; her posture was nothing short of regal, even while completely nude.

LeBlanc’s eyes found his again, pleased to note that they had never wavered from her face, and she held his gaze as her hips began to move. His brows furrowed at the feel of her, but he would not, could not close his eyes and risk missing even a moment of her. 

“Emilia,” Vladimir whispered, voice soft as his left hand joined his right at LeBlanc’s waist, drifting down towards the sides of her thighs in a caress that was almost tender. “I–”

A single finger pressed against the hemomancer’s lips, silencing him as LeBlanc raised her other hand to card through those silken silver locks of his. Something in Vladimir’s crimson eyes softened, something tentative and hopeful–

And in the blink of an eye, her fingers had curled into a fist around his hair, wrenching Vlad’s head back at an angle that was nearly painful. The finger pressed to his lips pulled away, moving instead to draw a harsh red line down his neck and over his collarbone.

Splaying her fingers over Vladimir’s chest, she began to ride him, taking her pleasure at his expense and knowing that he was enjoying every second. His throat worked as he struggled to keep still, but she could see the manic grin that had split his face even from this angle. His hands gripped her thighs, but otherwise made no motion to slow her, even as his breathing grew ragged.

“Yes, Vladimir,” she confirmed with an airy sigh that was half a moan. “You _are_ mine.”


	9. Vlad/Darius

After over two thousand years of living and killing and fucking with reckless abandon, Vladimir was quite confident that he’d nearly exhausted his supply of ‘firsts’, but he was a man that rarely spoke in absolutes. After all, mortals were nothing if not unpredictable, and Vladimir was never too proud to be proven wrong if it meant experiencing something interesting.

And Darius– Darius was _very_ interesting.

“Didn’t think you were capable of keeping your mouth shut this long,” Darius chuckled, slightly breathless but no less intense than he had been for the past several minutes. 

Vladimir grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but the words caught in his throat, tangled up in a low, languid groan as Darius slammed his hips down against Vlad’s thighs once more. To say that the Might was riding him was to say that the Freljord had a bit of a chill - Darius was a tempest above him, a force of nature that Vladimir had somehow found himself caught up in, and was just as helpless to stop.

It was _exhilarating_.

“No smart-mouthed comments, leech?“ Darius challenged with a smirk, hips still pumping away mercilessly. 

“And risk missing those sounds of yours? Perish the thought, my dear Might,” Vladimir returned, sounding almost scandalized before another brutal impact drove him deeper into the man above him and stole the breath from between his teeth. 

Darius loosed another bark of laughter, the sound vicious and triumphant, and braced a hand beside Vladimir’s hip as he adjusted the angle of his movements. He nipped roughly at the shell of the hemomancer’s ear as he took him to the hilt, and snarled as Vladimir’s delicate fingers wrapped around his cock and squeezed.

This was not a tender thing that they shared - it was the culmination of clashing wits and wills and just enough mutual interest to serve as fodder for the spark their constant friction inevitably ignited. This was just another battlefield, for Darius; just another game of pawns, for Vladimir. 

That did not mean that they could not enjoy it.


	10. Vlad/Vayne

“You wretch, you absolutely _vile_ –”

Vayne silenced herself with a shuddering gasp as Vladimir’s tongue swept over her clit, and her hands clenched in the sheets on either side of her, her grip so tight it threatened to tear the fabric. She squirmed beneath him, attempting to draw away, but he locked one arm around her thigh and gripped her hip hard with the hand of the other, keeping her firmly pressed against his mouth. 

“Enough already,” Vayne hissed, eyes screwing shut at the feel of those too-skilled lips against her, that too-clever tongue delving deep. “Just–- _gods_ ,” she cursed, biting down hard on her lower lip as her back arched, lifting her hips from the bed entirely. Vladimir’s grip held fast, and he moved with her as she writhed, his tongue moving with a languid persistence that had her thighs quivering.

Worse yet were those eyes of his, unnervingly intent and utterly sinful as he raised them to meet hers. That arrogance of his was ever-present in his expression, even when half of it was hidden between her legs, but there was something entirely too deliberate about the way he caught her gaze and held it, and it sent her squirming in ways that had nothing to do with the teasing curl of his tongue against her slit. 

She hated it, just as she hated him.

“Just–- _take_ me,” Vayne said, and she was adamant that it was a demand, not a plea. Another shift from him below, and she forced herself to swallow his name as it bubbled up in her throat, begging to be cried out. “Turn me around, be rough with me, kiss me, it does not matter, just stop…”

 _Stop looking at me like that._

For once, the fiend had nothing to say. Of course. Vladimir simply continued on as though he had not heard her, and Vayne could not keep a scream from tearing its way out of her lungs as he worried at her overstimulated clit. She collapsed back onto the bed, trembling all over as she reached a hand down to bury it in those long, terrible, _beautiful_ curls, uncertain whether she wanted to push his head away or tug it closer.

He was a monster of the most insidious variety, dangerous not only for the power he wielded and the sinister use he put it to, but also for the ease with which he could appear to be human. It was hard to hate a man that watched you with eyes like a lover’s as he sought out your pleasure with the same single-minded determination that he’d pursued immortality. It was almost impossible to do anything but fall in love with a monster like him, a demon dressed in silk, and she knew that was exactly what he wanted.

And worst of all, she knew that it was _working_.


End file.
